Waking Up
by Kat-of-the-Streets
Summary: It seems as if Robert did not wake up during the Pamuk night, but the question is what would have happened if he had?


This is a slightly different take on the Mary/Pamuk story. I know there are a million versions of it (and I have written several alternate versions as well), but this just popped up in my head for no reason at all and I somehow needed to get it out.

It seems as if Robert did not wake up during the Pamuk night, but the question is what would have happened if he had? Now, I honestly think that Cora would probably have kept silent and told him that she had heard a strange noise and gone into the hallway to check and that Robert would have accepted that (and maybe in Julian's mind that is exactly what happened).

But how would that scenario have played out if Cora had been pregnant? It is not impossible, she actually did fall pregnant a year later.

* * *

Robert

He feels the mattress move and for a moment thinks about not opening his eyes but hoping to fall asleep again right away but then remembers that his wife is pregnant. This is still a strange thought for him, she hasn't been pregnant in 17 years. But none of her pregnancies were easy and although he really does not want to think about throwing up and Cora describing to him what it feels to be kicked into the stomach from the inside, he can't just pretend he doesn't know that his wife is awake.

"Cora?"

"Yes darling?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes. Go back to sleep." Her words sound clipped and clouded over and that is what makes him truly worried.

"You are close to crying."

"It is just the pregnancy, Robert. Please."

He believes her and shrugs. This is not out of the ordinary for pregnant women. Or at least not for this particular pregnant woman. So he puts his arms around her.

"I am sorry. Whatever it may be."

She turns away from him and says "leave me, Robert", which hurts him quite a lot.

"Cora, that is the first time in any of your pregnancies that you have asked me to leave you when you were crying."

"Maybe," she says and he knows she wants to be left alone.

"I am certain. And I am sure it is not just the pregnancy. Tell me Cora, please."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"You'd be very disappointed."

"In whom?" He can't believe he could be disappointed in her. That would be a feat rather difficult for Cora to achieve under normal circumstances and certainly even more difficult while she was pregnant.

"I can't tell you," she repeats. He turns on the light on his nightstand and looks at her. His gentleman instinct tells him to leave her alone, to accept her wishes. The husband in him tells him to do the same. Cora is his wife, not some insolent servant. But the father in him, worried for all of his children, born and unborn, tells him not to let it go.

"Is it one of the girls?"

"Why would you think so?"

"Because if you are so afraid of me being disappointed, there are only five people in this world who could be the cause of it. Our girls, Rosamund and Matthew. You haven't seen Rosamund in weeks and do not like Matthew enough to not cease the chance to make me disappointed in him."

"That was a little harsh Robert. I like Matthew."

"Be that as it may, it must be one of the girls."

"Robert, please." She says it in such a begging manner that he decides to jump the gun.

"It is Mary. It must be Mary. If you are so worried about my being disappointed it must the child that is most like me."

"Oh, she did nothing like you," Cora says and he knows he won. One second of happiness over his victory is followed by what feels like ten thousand years of agony.

"Tell me Cora."

"Don't fly of the handle," she asks him "and try not to be too hurt."

He feels as if his heart stopped beating.

"Now you must tell me because nothing could be worse than my imaginings."

"Very well," she says and puts her hands over their unborn child protectively. "Do you recall how that Turkish diplomat flirted with Mary?"

"Yes. And I do not approve." He has a faint idea where this is going and hopes for it not to be true.

"They did more than just flirt. Much more."

He hardly dares to ask.

"How much more?"

"Mary won't enter her marriage a virgin. If anyone is willing to marry her now. She is damaged goods after all."

He has no idea what shocks him more. The fact that Mary seems to have taken a Turkish diplomat to bed or that Cora refers to her as 'damaged goods'.

"She, she, she had sex with him?" he asks to give himself more time.

"Yes." That seals the deal. It is the Turkish diplomat who shocks him the most.

"I am going to kill him."

"Well, that's the thing," Cora says and he cannot believe that there is more. Of course Mary could be pregnant but they won't know for weeks.

"There is more?"

"You can't kill him," Cora says and he thinks that she wants to stop him committing a crime. But he will find a way to cover it up.

"Cora, I will," but she interrupts him.

"You can't kill him because he is already dead."

"Did you kill him?" He wonders how she did it.

"No. He died of his own accord. In Mary's bed. While they were, well, you know."

"So he is still in Mary's room then? What if the servants find out?"

"They won't find out. And he is not in Mary's bed anymore. We carried him back to his room where he will be found in the morning."

He cannot believe it. He just cannot believe it.

"You carried a dead man the length of this house? You are pregnant!"

"I am aware of that."

"Mary and you can't have done it alone."

"No."

"Who helped you?" Cora shakes her head but he has to know the whole story.

"Who helped you?"

"Anna." That relieves him. Anna won't tell a soul.

"She can be relied on to not say a thing."

Cora nods and he realizes how tired she looks. "Go to sleep darling. We'll take care of the rest tomorrow. There is nothing we can do tonight."

But sleep does not come for him. He listens to Cora's breathing and when he is sure that she is asleep he gets up and without thinking about it walks to Mary's room. He thinks he can hear her move around and so he silently knocks on her door.

The scared look on her face when she sees him tells him that she is sure that he knows. He enters her room and motions for her to sit.

"Your mother told me," he says and when she looks at him surprised and even and a little disappointed he adds "I made her tell me. I woke up when she came back and I was worried. I wouldn't let go. She tried not to tell me and she told me not to fly of the handle and to be too hurt."

"I suppose you did not fly of the handle as I did not hear you yell," Mary says in that tone of voice that sounds so cold and detached. He knows she thinks she sounds like her grandmother but she doesn't. Not even her grandmother is that cold.

"No, I held myself back. For your mother's sake. She is pregnant after all and yelling at her would not have helped."

"But I know you are hurt. After all I am your eldest daughter."

"I am hurt Mary," he says. "Mary, how could you do that?"

"He came here, forced himself into my room and told me I couldn't scream because that would cause a scandal. Then he started kissing me and I gave in because he would have forced himself on me regardless and that way I could at least," he interrupts his daughter now.  
"Mary, that is a conversation we will have in a few minutes. I meant how could you ask your pregnant mother to help you carry the corpse of man, your lover nonetheless, through the house in the middle of night?"

"You think the morning would have been better?"

"Oh Mary, stop trying to be as clever as your grandmother. She knows better to hold back than you do and that is saying something."

Mary just stares at him in defiance.

"Mary, why did you not wake me instead of your mother?"

"Because Mama had almost as much to lose as I had. And I did not want to disappoint you."

"And forgot about your mother's condition."

"I was desperate. I still am desperate. And shocked. I didn't think."

"No, you did not think. Had you thought for just a second you would have screamed."

"And you would have believed me." Mary's tone of voice indicates that she does not believe for a second and her parents would have taken her side.

"Yes," he says and looks at Mary. Why does she trust him and her mother so little? Why does she hurt herself so much?

"If you say so."

"What have we done wrong Mary? Your mother and I have given you everything. Why are you so?" and then he doesn't know how to go on.

"Why am I so what? Disappointing? Female?"

"Hard on yourself and on others. You judge yourself and others too harshly."

"If that is what you think," Mary says and the defiance in her voice lets his temper boil over.

"Yes Mary, that is what I think. You keep telling yourself that it is your fault that you cannot inherit when, if someone were to blame at all, it is my fault. You reject Matthew because he is an upper middle class lawyer. You look down on Edith because her hair isn't as shiny as yours. You look down on your mother because she is American." Mary's eyes are brimming with tears now and he hopes she won't cry. Adults shouldn't cry. And then tears start to roll.

"If that is what you think of me, then maybe we should not try to cover up what happened tonight. Let me be engulfed in scandal, send me from this house. You will be rid of me then and with good reason. You can be happy then." Mary's words break his heart but telling her that would not be helpful.

"Mary, I could never be happy if you left this house for good. I would be very sorry to see you go like that."

The expression on Mary's face changes from anger and rage to a mixture of hope and desperation.

"Truly?" she asks and he nods.

"Truly. I do not want you gone from this house. I love you."

"What would you have me do then?" That is a question he cannot answer, not fully at least.

"We'll let a servant, probably Thomas, find Pamuk in his bed. Clarkson will in likelihood diagnose a heart attack. The rest we will have to talk over with Evelyn. And we will have to pretend we did not know."

"Nobody must ever know."

He wants to agree but then thinks one person who probably should know.

"Nobody but Matthew."

"What's it to him?"

"Don't you think he deserves your honesty?"

"Why?"

"Because he is in love with you and not without reason he hopes for you to return the feeling."

"Not without reason? You just said I looked down on him."

"And so you do. But I think you should change your mind."

Mary rolls her eyes and he wants to yell at her for that kind of impertinence in her current situation but he is afraid of waking someone else.

"Mary," he says and she looks at him.

"You want me to consider Matthew again because you think no one else will have me now."

He knows there is no way to reason with Mary tonight.

"No. Then I wouldn't want you to tell him the truth."

He leaves the room and Mary to her thoughts whatever they may be.

.

Matthew

.

He cannot believe what he hears. Kemal Pamuk died of a heart attack while sleeping with Mary.

"Why? Why did you let that happen?" he asks and Mary looks straight into his eyes.

"I don't know Matthew. Lust. A sense of doing something forbidden."

"But why sleep with him? Why not just kiss him or flirt with him?"  
"He came to my room. He overpowered me and I gave in."

This hurts him on many levels but most of all it drives a dagger into his heart. Why did she fall for Pamuk? She could have kissed him. He would have not taken her to bed, not before a possible wedding night, but then he would have… But no. Those thoughts must leave his mind now. Because he could never raise another man's child, not like this.

"What if there is a baby?"

Mary stares at him, shrugs her shoulders and says "it won't be long before I know. I'll think about then if I have to think about."

"When will you know?"

"Tomorrow or the day after."

He nods. Mary hates talking about these things and he knows what that means anyway.

"Let me know. Either way." He turns around then and leaves. He should be mad at Mary, he is mad at Mary. Of course he hopes that she is not pregnant but he should hope so only to avoid a family scandal. Not because he could still marry her then. Because he couldn't. Or at least he shouldn't want to marry her anymore.

.

.

"Lady Mary," the butler announces and he looks up from his newspaper. His mother is down at the hospital. He supposes that is why Mary chose to come right now.

"Mary," he says and he can feel his heart beating in his throat.

"Matthew," Mary replies and without further ado she looks him straight into the eyes and says "No. There won't be a..."

He cannot stop from smiling now.

"I am very glad to hear that. It is a relief."

"Were you so afraid of a scandal? I thought you didn't care."

"I do care Mary," he says and thinks that there is some regret in Mary's eyes. "I care quite a lot. About your family. And about you."

"You should hope my mother's baby will be a girl then," Mary replies and he has the feeling that they are either taking steps forward or backward now. At least they are not standing still.

"I don't know what I hope."

"Will you go back to Manchester if she has a boy?"

"I doubt it," he replies and is surprised by his own answer. "Your father said I could have Crawley House for life. I have gotten used to living here. I like having a family. I've always had mother of course but it was just us for a long time."

"I am glad to hear you won't leave. You'd be missed."

He wonders whether Mary said this out of politeness or because she would really miss him. And then he decides to jump the gun. He has had it with all the aristocratic beating around the bush.

"Mary, would you miss me?"

"Of course I would Matthew," she replies in the most unhelpful detached manner.

"Would you miss me more than Edith and Sybil would miss me?"

Mary looks at him incredulously now.

"Matthew, what are you saying?"

"Mary," he says and sighs. "Mary," he says again and walks towards her. She remains where she is and he sees her hands, her whole body shaking. "Mary," he says again and then takes her into his arms.

"You've said that three times now," she says and although she doesn't give any indication of embracing him she also doesn't move away.

"I love you," he whispers into her ear and feels sobs wrecking through her body.

"How can you?" she asks and he knows what she means.

"Mary, if you loved me too it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't feel like betrayal because a few days ago you didn't know I loved you."

"Until two minutes ago I didn't know I loved you," Mary replies and there is so much honesty in her voice that he does not doubt her. He wants to kiss her but then remembers what she has just been through. So instead he kneels down in front of her and takes her hand.

"Lady Mary Crawley, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" he asks and she nods. There are no reservations.

"Yes," she says and he gets up again to lift her off the ground.

* * *

I really hope this isn't too awful. I know it is rather unrealistic, but that is what fanfiction is (sometimes) for.

I am still working on the next chapter of The Mistress He Loves. I haven't forgotten about that.

Please let me know what you think about this story.


End file.
